


ONE SIX FIVE (165)

by lunchbuddy



Category: Alex Kingston - Fandom, Upstairs Downstairs (2011)
Genre: F/F
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-09-09
Updated: 2017-09-09
Packaged: 2018-12-25 12:56:12
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 10
Words: 9,694
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12036321
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lunchbuddy/pseuds/lunchbuddy
Summary: Season 2 ends with Agnes and Blanche walking out of 165 in their uniforms, for their respective war jobs. We see them squeeze each other’s hands for support and are interrupted by an air raid siren.  Agnes and Blanche are going to face the World War together, having battled side by side in their personal lives, and moving forward with the strength they find in each other.Earlier in the episode an exchange between Agnes and Hallam ends with Agnes saying she will wear her wedding ring only for show.  I conclude that the marriage is over, only a legal document at this point.  Agnes will play the part of Hallam’s wife for others only (doing her part for war effort, undoubtedly more of a strain than joining St. John’s Ambulance). Hector, Veronica, and Pamela are in Wales with Agnes’ father, Nanny, and Miss Buck. So they can be kept safe from air raids and will hopefully never have to use their gas masks.  Hallam is working for the Royal Army.  He spends the nights he in England at  a hotel, with whomever his next mistress(es) is.  SO, Upstairs in 165 Eaton Place Agnes and Blanche become the only occupants.





	1. Fish and Chips

“What smells so good?” Agnes said walking into the dining room as she removed her hat. Blanche was still in her uniform, though she’d taken her jacket off. Agnes felt a bit like she was playing dress up when she wore her uniform with its stiff wool jacket, and tie, but uniform suited Blanche so well and she found her eyes lingering a bit too long at Blanche’s shape the thick fabric drawing out every angle Blanche had.  
“I thought Ms. Thackery had the night off.” Agnes said collecting herself. Blanche smiled at her, a bit of mischief in her eyes as she greeted her with a kiss on the check.  
“Don’t tell me you tried to cook. Last time you did, I thought Ms. Thack was going to take your hand off with a butcher's knife.” Agnes said.  
“No, I did not cook, that is why it smells so good.” Blanche smiling at her own joke. “I still think that Miss Thack overreacted a bit though.”  
Blanche pulled out Agnes chair with a flair. “I got a take away. It is fish and chips, and marrowfat peas.” Blanche said a bit triumphantly.  
“Now I know you might think it a bit low brow, but we get it sometimes at the firehouse, and it is very tasty. I put it on plates, so you won’t have to eat out of newsprint.” She was clearly excited.  
Agnes smiled at Blanche as she made a show of it all. The table set with china and cut crystal, to hold a meal usually eaten while standing. Agnes found she was always doing things she had never done when she was with Blanche. It seemed there was very little out of her bounds when they were together.  
“It smells wonderful. And I am glad we get to eat at home.” She gave Blanche a grateful smile. Blanche still playing waiter bowed as Agnes sat down their eyes holding a gaze, laugher an inch away.  
“Did you have a long day?” Blanche asked squeezing Agnes shoulder. Anges look tired. She placed a glass of whiskey in front of her before taking the seat next to her.  
“The morning was quiet, but then we got 4 calls in the afternoon. Two not so serious, a burn and a sprain and two that had to go to the London Hospital. So we spent the morning rather bored and the afternoon rushing about, but at least the supplies were fully stocked.”  
“When it rains it pours.” Blanche responded. “Well, you must be worn. Eat up.”  
Agnes looked skeptical. “Oh this is actually rather tasty” She said after her first bite. The smile on Agnes face making Blanche feel rather pleased with herself.  
“How was the refugee office today?” Agnes asked,  
“Oh Agnes, there were tens of hundreds more letters today. With the war on they won’t be given passage, but to see people in piles of letters and know that they are risk.” Blanche’s face was sad and frustrated. Agnes took Blanche’s hand into her lap. She knew Blanche was grieving the loss of lives she would never know beyond these letters. Agnes loved this about Blanche, that she still saw the war as being about protecting people not about national pride. And that even knowing that there was little she could do, she choose not to look away.  
Blanche dipped her head and sighed. “In the letters we found one from a mother of one of the kinder though that we can forward to her. That was all the good I could do for the day.” A smile cheering her face a bit.  
“And that wasn’t a little thing, not to that child, or to that mother.” Ages said squeezing Blanche’s hand before releasing it.

Caught up in their conversation, they sat in the dining room for twenty minutes before they realized they had both finished eating. Agnes took the plates downstairs, sending Blanche to the drawing room. Agnes joined her a few minutes later, a drink waiting for her. They sat facing each other on the couch, their shoes on the floor, and drinks in hand. And they talked. Occasionally their eyes would catch and long minutes would pass before another word was said. Their bare feet bumping together, and a hug was nearby if it was needed. 

Nothing felt easier to Agnes, than spending time with Blanche. Blanche would tell Agnes stories of Egypt, and ask Agnes about Wales and America. They would listen to the news on the radio. Blanche would not try protect her from the things that she was afraid of, and asked Agnes’ opinion often. They spent most nights this way, next to each other. This was where Agnes found peace between the War, the business of the day, worrying about the kids, and the memories of Hallam and Percy. It didn’t make the other stuff disappear, but next to Blanche she didn’t feel alone, she knew she had the strength carry on.  
Agnes thought about all the ways her life had changed since the war. She had lost her sister. Her marriage had ended in all but law and even that bit was only a matter of time. She had gotten a job, her house felt like her own for the first time since she’s moved to London. And there was Blanche. Together they had established new patterns in the house. Starting each day with a quick cup of tea in their uniforms before heading off to work. Blanche splitting her days so between the fire brigade and the immigrant bureau. Now it was Agnes who would come home with stories from work to share and Blanche was there with a drink ready when she walked in. After dinner they would sit in the parlor. Thoughts of Hallam and Percy still haunted her, but when she was at peace like she was now on the couch next to Blanche she knew that there was good too.


	2. Can't Sleep

Blanche and Agnes parted at the top of the stairs, the hour was later than usual as they had lost track of time sharing stories of their perspective years in school. Agnes had laughed more in the last 3 hours than she had in over a month, but as she said goodnight to Blanche her sadness returned.   
More than an hour had passed and Agnes had applied her night cream twice and tidied the room, set out a dress for the next day. Nights were the hardest, to keep the images at bay. The ones she’d seen and the ones she imagined. Percy’s body on the floor of the hall, Hallam and Percy naked in bed together, Hallam covered in moonlight the room empty their first night at 165. These were the three cycling through her head tonight.   
Agnes could not get comfortable in the bed she used to share with Hallam. It just didn’t feel like her place anymore, just a holdover from a time that had now passed like so many things did.   
She went into the hall. Passing Percy’s door, which she had left shut, since the funeral. The images of Hallam and Percy together were too easy to imagine when she looked into that room. 

She walked down to the nursery. This was the one place where Agnes found comfort, where the memories were only good. She missed her children terribly, but was happy that they were safe. And she and Blanche would drive to visit them one weekend every month in Wales. It was often in Hector’s bed that Agnes would sleep breathing in the smell of her young son holding onto the teddy bear left behind. His pillow smelled less like his boyish combination of dirt and drool the smell washed away by the tears Agnes had shed into its comforting embrace.   
Still unable to quiet herself Agnes got up and began walking up and down the hall, hoping the exercise would tire her. A light shone out under Blanche’s door.   
Agnes knocked lightly, and when she opened the door, she saw Blanche a pile of papers in her hand writing in a notebook perched on her dressing table. Her eyes blazed behind her glasses.  
“I have just made the most delicious connection. It has always been understood that Hatshepsut had many concubines as did all the Pharaohs, but I think his wife might have too! See here is a reference to a woman, who I think was not the lover not of Hatshepsut but of the wife of Hatshepsut.” Agnes was so amused seeing Blanche entirely raptured by the lives and loves of the Egyptian Aristocracy.   
Blanche looking up at Agnes for the first time since she walked into the room, noticed the exhaustion on her face, and realized that it was quite late. Her attention turned to Agnes the lesbian lover of the queen of Egypt would wait, Agnes shouldn’t have to.   
“Still can’t sleep?”, she asked.   
“No” Agnes replied. “I didn’t mean to disturb you, I just saw the light on…I’ll go back to…” not knowing where to say she’d go.  
“Back to the nursery?” asked Blanche.   
“How did you know?” asked Agnes.   
“Sometimes I hear you in there at night, I must say you look awfully squished in that small bed.” answered Blanche.  
“I can’t sleep anywhere else, without my thoughts and dreams being full of Hallam and Percy.” explaining simply. Blanche knew this was why.   
Blanche gestured to her bed “Sit. I will be right back” 

Agnes sat at the top of Blanche’s bed. And looked around the room. It was so like Blanche, ordered but not ordinary. Jewelry made of rocks and gems on the dressing table. A stack of books beside the bed, the current selections from the shelf that sat under the window. A blue silk dressing gown hung over the end of the bed.  
Blanche entered the room her glasses hanging from the front of her slip pulling the neckline the tiniest bit lower.   
She had two cups of tea with her that were a sort of mustard color. “It is an herbal tea, that will calm you and help you to sleep” she explained.  
She handed Agnes a cup and sat facing her leaning against the baseboard. Agnes sipped carefully at the rather potent smelling drink.   
Agnes smiled at Blanche “I don’t think I have sat in bed with a friend since boarding school and we were never allowed up this late.”   
“And you always followed all the rules, miss perfect.” And so they began sharing stories again of who they’d been at age 12 and 14. Blanche was telling a story of a long walk their horticulture class had taken through the hills behind the school, with a much more idyllic start then ending, when she heard Agnes’ breathes deepen.   
Agnes was asleep, having slumped against the pillows at the top of the bed. Blanche covered Agnes with the quilt tucking her feet under the blanket. She looked so beautiful, resting there. 

Blanche retook her spot at the end of the bed. She could only stare. It was not lost on Blanche that a beautiful woman was in her bed.   
But Agnes was more than just a beautiful woman, although to deny that she was beautiful would be foolish, as Blanche’s whole body could attest to at this moment. Agnes had become dear to Blanche in the last 2 years.   
She was so grateful to Agnes, for being the first real family she’d had. Agnes encouraged Hector and Veronica to call her aunt and spend time with her. Agnes turned down what few engagements she was invited to if Blanche wasn’t also given an invitation. She had defended Blanche to Hallam when rumors of her and Portia made the paper. Agnes was the first person who had ever wanted Blanche to be family. And Blanche had found more love and acceptance in their connection than any she had ever experienced.  
But Blanche also knew that what she felt for Agnes was more than that of familial bond, but that she loved Agnes. It had happened slowly, as Agnes’s company became the company she most wanted to be in, whose opinion and voice she wanted to hear. It was Agnes’s promise that she was not alone that mended her heart after she parted from Portia. She loved Agnes now with all her heart.   
In love. And in a family. She stared at the sleeping face that made her life this complete and smiled. 

The next morning, Agnes woke to 3 small pink roses in a vase next to the bed. In walked Blanche with breakfast on a tray.   
“I was thinking that we should re-decorate” Blanche said. “And move the bedrooms around. I would much rather be on the west side of the house where the light is better, and since it is just you and I now I don’t see why we can’t” she said placing the tray in front of Agnes.   
Agnes was a bit startled by this pronouncement having only just woken up.   
“I think I can even nick a few items from the British Museum, how would you feel sleeping in a Sarcophagus?” Blanche continued.  
Agnes smiled at Blanche, grateful for a solution to a problem she didn’t even know needed to be solved. Besides this was their house now and some new furniture would make it feel that way.  
“I am not sleeping some old Egyptian’s coffin.” Agnes responded. Blanche shrugged and smiled, picking up the pages she had been writing last night.   
“What time is it?” Agnes asked.   
“9:30 in the morning.” Blanche answered. “We have a lot to do today and hours slept away to make up for.”


	3. A Dance

Agnes and Blanche sat in the parlor. Blanche was reading about the embalming practices during Ramses the first. She would pull her glasses off to tell Agnes the new gorry bit she’d just learned, then loop the arms of her glasses back over her ears, a gesture that Agnes found wildly endearing.   
Agnes turned on the wireless, a Charleston tapping its way out. “Oh I miss dancing” Agnes declared. Blanche smirked as she looked over at Agnes two stepping.   
“I’m afraid I will lose whatever rhythm I had and there is a new dance in vogue every month now.” Blanche taking in the sight of Agnes’s skirt swirling around her waist as she shook her hips gently.   
Putting down her book said “Well we can’t have that now”. Blanche offering Agnes her hand.   
“Who will lead?” Agnes asked, Blanche gave her a look she knew meant that the answer should be obvious, then smirked as she twirled Agnes around her skirt twirling with her and brushing against Blanche. The thrill on Agnes’ face made Blanche smile.   
They danced a Charleston, then a Lindy, before the music slowed. Agnes stepped into towards Blanche, as they moved together taking long steps around the parlor. Their hips would meet and then they would step back together, meeting again then turning together bringing them back to where they started. They made a circle around the room.   
Agnes breathed in the herbal smell of Blanche’s shampoo as she rested her cheek against her the thick curls. The curve of Blanche’s waist was so womanly and soft beneath Agnes’ hand. Agnes rested in the frame that Blanche’s shoulder made around her. She closed her eyes in total trust.  
Blanche had known that Agnes would fit against her this well. They matched each other so perfectly, Agnes a bit taller so her breasts brushed at the top of Blanche’s. Agnes’ long fingers curling across Blanche’s hands.   
Their steps slowed till they stood still face to face their arms still around the waist of the other. The next song picked a faster beat and moved on without them, as they stood holding one another in the living room.


	4. Blanche tells Agnes about coming out

Agnes and Blanche were in the parlour after dinner sitting on the couch, Agnes on the right Blanche on the left their feet meeting in the middle. Blanche was reading, and Agnes was staring at her from the other end of the couch. Agnes smiled as Blanche's eyes widened with interest occasionally as she read. There was something rather commanding about Blanche’s face always, but especially as she read. Blanche wore her glasses when she read and Agnes found her rather striking with her glasses on.   
Agnes thought about the woman in front of her. Blanche had this assurance from knowing who she was. Anges admired that strength. She wondered if she could have that kind of strength someday. Agnes chewed her lip a bit.   
Agnes thought back to when Portia’s book came out, and how without flinching Blanche had corrected Hallam when he called Portia her friend, and said that Portia was her lover. That always seemed to Agnes a picture of bravery. It had been Blanche’s courage and honesty that had shocked her that day, more than finding out she was a lesbian. Agnes thought about that day rather a lot. About Blanche being brave and honest. The way she didn’t flinch at being exposed publicly, or at Hallam’s being ashamed of her. The way that Blanche’s eyes shone when she talked about Portia. The way Blanche had needed her after she came back from her trip to the country with Portia. Blanche’s chest heaving against her as she cried in her arms. Agnes had read the Golden Blaze, it felt like an invasion of Blanche’s privacy now. Sometimes she would look at Blanche and unbidden what Portia had had written would spring to mind. Portia had described how beautiful Blanche was very accurately. Her thick curls and deep eyes. Reading the Golden Blaze it was easy to imagine what it would feel like to be loved by Blanche. If she was honest she felt a little jealous to think that this woman knew Blanche in ways she didn’t.   
Blanche looked up from her book, “You look rather lost in thought” Blanche said leaving the question lingering between them.  
Agnes blushed having been caught staring at Blanche, and looked into her hands. She stuttered a bit, “How did you know? Know that you liked women, I mean? Did you always know?” Blanche smiled, recognizing this was a question Agnes had been wanting to ask for a while. Blanche closed her book. She knew she could trust Agnes with this, and she looked to keen to know.   
Blanche leaned forward and squeezed Agnes knee, and started her story. “I was very fortunate. Most lesbians haven’t been so lucky. I was 15, at St Catherine’s. We were only a year from being debutants and coming out was talked about at meals and in the dorms, and even in class. And I could not stand it. I didn’t want to be married to a man, and so I thought that I would be a nun instead. I hated the idea of being a man’s wife. Kissing a man didn’t appeal to me at all. My father was a bishop, and was devoted to the church so I had some idea of what being a nun would be like. I thought that I could teach. I liked school and the idea of teaching was far more appealing than getting married. My relationship with my father was tense. He resented having to care for a child alone at such an advanced age. My mother died when I was 7 and it was the year after that I started boarding school.   
I was home over the Christmas Holiday that year. It was just my father and I. Maud had just married Richard and they were spending the holiday with his family. I told my father I wanted to be a nun. And he was so proud that day, and included it in his homily on Christmas Eve. That was probably the first and last time he was proud of me.  
I went back to school a few days before term started, my father and I having worn on each other enough at that point. My literature teacher lived in my dorm, her name was Cynthia Nichols. She was a younger woman compared to our other teachers, and she would lend me novels. I went to her room the afternoon I got back to return a book she had lent me. I opened the door without knocking, and saw her on her settee kissing another woman I didn’t know. They didn’t notice me at first and I stood in the door staring. I began to cry. Her partner saw me first, and screamed in shock. And I dropped the book I was returning, and ran down the hall then out the door.   
I finally stopped at a tree at the edge of the school’s grounds, I fell against it and cried. Watching Miss. Nichols and her partner kiss, I knew that I wanted to kiss a woman, that I always had. I hadn’t know that you could kiss a woman, maybe that sounds silly but I didn’t. I was terrified in that moment realizing that I wanted to love, that what I thought I knew about myself was different than what was true.   
Miss Nichols found me slouched against the stump of the tree. She hugged me and asked me why I was crying. I don’t know if I said anything really. I think she had known before I did that I was like her. We went back to her room, it was rather cold out since it was late December. Her partner, Maggie made tea and we talked the rest of the afternoon. They took a risk telling me the truth that day.   
Miss Nichols became my role model at that point. She told me the rules and how to protect myself from being found out. She also told me about lesbian bars, and how to know who was family, who was like us. She still loaned me books, although some more sapphic in tone than before. But more than that she showed me that the life I wanted was possible. And my admiration of her became an antidote to the the shame I felt.   
The rest of the story isn’t so pretty. I could no longer be a nun, but I still couldn’t marry a man. And I absolutely couldn’t tell my father that I was a lesbian. Recognizing my attraction to women, started to open my eyes to all the things I thought I understood but hadn’t, and I developed more and more of my own opinions, all of which as it turned out disagreed with the church and therefore with my father. I eventually had to tell my father I wasn’t going to join the order that I wanted to go to college instead. It all came to head at my debutante ball. He was angry, said I was being lead astray by my teachers. He got Miss Nichols fired and took me out of school in what would have been my last year, those were the hardest days of my life, I was alone and I had no autonomy to make my own decisions. I was forced to go to church with him. He preached nearly every Sunday condemning inverts as he called them. He never said anything directly to me but we both knew those sermons were for me.  
He had a heart attack and died just under a year after he took me out of school. He was an old man by then, in his eighties, I had just turned 18. Miss Nichols and I had stayed in touch through letter. She was teaching at a school in Liverpool then. She helped me apply to Oxford and with my inheritance I was able to go. Maud would bring eligible men with her and Richard when she would see me, but they eventually got posted in India, and I was finally free of the bounds of family. I knew that I wanted a different life than that and with the money I inherited I could have it. At Oxford I read history, and anthropology, I went on my first dig, and well you know the rest.  
It has been lonely at times but I have gotten to be true to myself. Being honest is both a privilege and a responsibility. Cynthia and Maggie will never be able to live openly, it would risk their careers. It isn’t that there aren’t risks, but they are less for me and so I try to take them so that someday it won’t be so risky for others. Like I said I’ve been more fortunate than most.”  
Agnes looked at Blanche with new admiration. Agnes took Blanche’s hands in hers, pulling her a bit closer, “I think you are rather wonderful.” She said her voice a bit choked with feeling. She was right, she’d been fortunate, but she had also been very brave. Agnes still wished for that kind of bravery. 

As Agnes lay in bed that night, she couldn’t stop thinking about the way Blanche described feeling as after seeing Cynthia and Maggie kissing. Of being frightened by realizing you had wanted something that you hadn’t known you wanted or even known existed until you saw it in front of you. And that once you saw it, everything would change. Agnes lay in bed debating whether this was something to hope would happen to her or to dread happening to her. Either way she knew if it did happen she wanted to be as brave as Blanche and accept it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sharing coming out stories seems to me one of the most basic parts of queer relationships, romantic and platonic (although Blanche and Agnes are NOT at all platonic) and so I felt I needed to write something of that moment. We also got a serious bi-curious scene angle happening.


	5. Picnic

Blanche was feeling restless. She couldn’t read without losing her place every other page. Usually her books were the escape she needed from the war, a reminder that wars had been fought before. She longed for a long walk, and fresh air. It was a Saturday and neither she nor Agnes had a shift today. She just needed to leave the house and get to a place that offered her some perspective.   
Banche pushed herself out of her chair. And headed to the kitchen. She surprised Mrs. Thackery, who was sitting down to read the latest in the Tattler. “I’m sorry to disturb” She gave the cover of the magazine a disapproving look, which was returned by Mrs. Thackery.   
“What can I do for you?” she asked  
“If it isn’t trouble could you pack up some cold cut sandwiches and fruit? I need to get out of this house if only for the afternoon.”   
“Of course Dr. Mottershead. I will pack a basket and leave it in the car.”   
“The car. Perfect.” She began to reclimb the stairs. Yelling back “Thank you Mrs. Thack.”

Agnes grabbed for Blanche’s hand as Blanche hit the accelerator when they finally exited London and the less congested streets opened up. “Do slow down” she screamed.   
Blanche speed a minute more and then let up on the accelerator.   
“My dear, what has gotten into you?” inquired Agnes.  
“I just feel so fitfully useless. We had only 40 refugee applications yesterday leaving so many trapped by a government that with destroy them. If only we had started earlier. There is nothing to do, but stand by.”   
Agnes stroking the top of Blanche’s hand gripping the gear shift said “Britain could have saved more but Blanche you saved many. You pressed Hallam to increase the number of visas issued, you expedited the process. You started the kindertransport. It wasn’t enough surely but you did what you could.”   
“I just wish there was more to do, more we could save.” Blanche said her grip on the gear shift slowly loosening under Agnes’s hand. 

“This is the spot” Blanche declared as she pulled rather abruptly onto a small lane leading up a hill. They pulled out of a cluster of trees to see a small brook running the long side of a hill, and soft looking grass all around.   
“How lovely” Agnes declared pulling her shoes off before she stepped out of the car wanting to feel the grass on her feet.   
Blanche pointed to a large brick building far off “That was my school and this is where I would run off to. It was at the top of this hill that I had my first kiss.” She glanced quickly over at Agnes before she picked the basket and the blanket out of the back of the car. And together they headed up the hill.   
As soon as the reached the top of the hill, Blanche dropped the basket and the blanket on the ground then dropped to the ground herself, and rolled down the hill. Agnes was surprised at Blanche’s actions but without thinking simply did the same. Her response so immediate that they ended in a bundle at the bottom of the hill, giggling and unable to untangle themselves from each other.   
They climbed back to the basket, but when they get there Agnes pulled Blanche down and they tumbled together to the bottom again. Agnes’s full weight landing on top of Blanche her arms pinned behind Blanche’s back. The exhilaration and surprise has made their breathing quick and their chests pounded against each other. They didn’t move for a full minute as they caught their breath.   
Blanche stood up pulling Agnes with her. “Try and catch me” Agnes yelled as she ran up the hill. They chased each other grabbing at each other and slipping through the others fingers till they collapsed on the grass. 

Agnes spread the blanket out Blanche unpacking their lunch they ate quietly, shyly smiling at each other as they remembered the playing they’d just done and hadn’t done since they were kids.   
Blanche and Ages sat on top of that hill all afternoon. Agnes recited a Welsh folk tale of a fairy kingdom found in the center of a beautiful flower, that was turned to gold when the sun hit the petals as it set. She lay her head on Blanche’s lap trying to remember her mother’s words, telling folktale after folktale.   
“We need to get back before dark, because there won’t be lights once we get to London with the Blackout. And we don’t want to be turned to gold by the sunset.” Blanche said. So they packed their leftover food, and the empty thermos of tea, and folded the blanket, and walked slower down the hill then they had up it. Anges slipping her arm into Blanche’s leaning slightly against her, which left them both nearly as breathless as running up the hill had. They stowed the basket in the car, and as Agnes put her shoes back on Blanche slipped off returning with a bundle of wild flowers. 

Agnes fell asleep that night those flowers by her bed as she looked up at her ceiling tracing the memory of Blanche’s face above hers into her memory.


	6. Fire!

It was late afternoon. Agnes had already been on 5 calls this shift, when the sixth came in. She and the other women of St. John’s ran to the ambulance, grabbing the bags they had just refilled with supplies.   
“Do we know what the call is?” Asked Agnes as they sped in the direction of the wharfs.   
“A fire in some flats, a few blocks from the river.” Joyce answered. Agnes wondered if Blanche would be called too.   
When they got the scene, there were already many people gathered, the injured holding tender skin, others watching in horror. Others filling buckets with water. The smoke was thick and many were coughing. Agnes and the other nurses got straight to work. Agnes and 3 others moved in closer to the fire to see how bad the damage was and to assess those who had more serious injuries.   
Agnes saw many women from the fire brigade, but not Blanche. There was really too much work to be done to ask anyone. Most of the injuries were burns, and many people were coughing from the smoke inhalation.  
The ambulance was full of patients who had more serious burns and needed to be taken to the hospital. Agnes and Joyce elected to stay behind and finish bandaging those whose burns were less serious, and be on the scene. The fire was very nearly under control at this point.   
Agnes saw a woman she had met before from the fire brigade, and asked if Blanche was there.  
“Yes.” She responded as she ran with buckets in her hands. “She has been fighting back a wall of flames along the back of the building”   
A knot formed in the pit of Agnes stomach, and she ran to the other side of the building. She couldn’t see Blanche, the fire was a lot hotter back here. She was scared.   
Blanche emerged from around a corner, and collapsed unconscious. Agnes ran to her, blowing her whistle to signal for help. And began mouth to mouth. Tears were running down Agnes’ face as she put her mouth against Blanche’s mouth breathing for her. Her tears left tracks as they pushed away the ash clinging to her face. Desperation began to grasp Agnes as she looked into Blanche’s face. Finally Blanche coughed. Her eyes opening to Agnes’s face barely an inch above where her own her lips were nearing Blanche’s. Relief filled Agnes face, and she wiped at her tears that were still sliding down Blanche’s face.   
Joyce came having heard the whistle carrying a stretcher. They loaded Blanche into the ambulance. Blanche staring into Agnes’s eyes, the contact lost as Blanche lost consciousness. As they rushed to the hospital Agnes held Blanche’s hand and cried silently. The other nurses taking over.

Agnes sat be side Blanche’s bed, it was late by now nearly 2 in the morning. The fire had been put out a few hours ago and Joyce and a few women from the fire brigade had come by to check on Blanche, but had since gone home.   
Blanche had some burns on her arms, and her legs. But her breathing had normalized mostly. She coughed some as she slept. And she was conscious. That was what had scared Agnes most was to see Blanche just lying there on the ground with no attention for the world around her. Agnes hadn’t felt that much fear before.   
Blanche was going to be okay but Agnes’ heart beat still hadn’t slowed down. She wanted to hear Blanche’s voice that was the one thing that would reassure her. Her nursing training offered no assurance, neither did the doctor’s words. She needed to hear Blanche’s voice. It would mean that Blanche was alright, that everything was alright. And so she sat next to Blanche’s hospital bed. 

Her hand kept traveling up to her lips unknowingly. To her lips that now knew Blanche’s lips. That had felt them pressed against her own as she leaned against Blanche’s to breathe for her. Agnes’ fingers barely touching moved against her lips as she held her breath waiting to see Blanche’s eyes open.  
She knew something now, something she hadn’t known when she and Blanche had said goodbye this morning. She knew that she loved Blanche.   
Agnes looked into Blanche’s face as she slept. A tear slid down Agnes’ face. Blanche had become more to her in the last year than her husband’s aunt, or a dear friend. They had lived the first year of the war together. A war that was changing the shape of the world, and that had changed the shape of her family. A war that took away her role as wife and was reshaping what being a woman looked like. Agnes had been changed by Blanche too. Blanche who had always lived, had to live, without fitting the rules, and so instead lived by what she believed was true and good. And Blanche was true and good.   
Loving Blanche was not a change Agnes had expected, but as she looked into Blanche’s face she knew loving her was true and good. She smiled and looked at the woman she loved. She moved closer and took Blanche’s hand in hers laying her head on the mattress by Blanche’s shoulder. 

Agnes woke up to a scratchy voice saying her name. “Agnes” Blanche said. Agnes sighed with relief. “Good morning.” She smiled. Everything was going to be okay now.


	7. They finally kiss

Agnes and Blanche were drinking their tea in the garden behind the house the next day. Blanche had been advised to recover for a few days, although she was insisting that she was going to go to the refugee office tomorrow. Agnes had taken a few days off so that she could care for Blanche, who was being a rather difficult patient.   
Blanche stood to take a look at bird’s nest she spotted in a bush along the edge of the garden Agnes joined her and they began to walk around the small garden.   
Agnes stopped short, moving her hand to Blanche’s arm. Sincerity washed over her face. “I am happy with my life. I didn’t have my own life when you moved to 165, but now I do. I have changed. I have a constructive purpose. A life of purpose for myself and that I can give to others. You told me that I could have purpose. That I could do something well. And at a time when there was little I could believe in, it was those words that made me think to believe in myself.”   
Pride shown in her eyes, and was mirrored by admiration in Blanche’s. “I have built a life for myself, for the children. I have become a woman that I admire.”   
Shaking her head, “You have always been a woman to admire” Blanche started. But Agnes stopped her.  
Moving her hands Blanche's arm she took Blanche’s hand in hers, Agnes continued, “Blanche, I want you to share this life I’ve built with me.” Fumbling a bit “you do already. Honestly Blanche, I have built this life with you and with your guidance. You have been my source of support and company in what was otherwise a dark time. But that isn’t what I mean...” Her eyes imploring Blanche to simply understand. Blanche pushed at her hair and looked down.  
Taking a breathe Agnes went on, “Now that I have something of my own, a purpose, a life, I want to share it with someone. And the person I want to share this life with is you.”   
Blanche could not meet Agnes’ gaze as her eyes pooled with tears. Agnes now holding both of Blanche’s hands waited to see her if her love would be returned. A tear falling onto their clasped hands.   
Blanche looked quickly into the eyes she had grown so accustomed to, “Agnes you are and have always been the woman of purpose you describe. You have strength and great beauty. I have loved you. But never had I imagined that my love would be returned.”   
Upon hearing that Blanche loved her Agnes impulsively leaned down and pecked Blanche on the lips. Blanche’s disbelief that Agnes would want her was shattered by that kiss.  
Blanche reached up and pulled Agnes’s face back towards hers, capturing her lips in her own. Her thumb brushed the side of her face, as their lips met and left each other and then returned to meet again. A smile broke onto Blanche’s face separating their lips. They stared at each other both amazed to behold the other, altered by a love built and now declared.


	8. Curious: sex scene

Blanche closed her bedroom door behind her, and was startled by the creek of another door in the hall. It was Agnes, closing her door. Blanche smiled to see her. “I was coming to see you. Just to make sure you were tucked in.” Agnes said.   
“And here I was coming to get a good night kiss.” Blanche responded and Agnes obliging lowered her face to Blanche’s. The kiss was deep and longing. Blanche pulled Agnes against her so the only thing between them were the layers of their silk bed clothes. Holding her gently Blanche pressed Agnes against a wall her hands above her head just leaning her whole self against her.   
Agnes reached up taking Blacnhe’s hands and pulled them into Blanche’s bedroom.  
As soon as the door shut Blanche had Agnes pressed against it. Her lips sliding down Agnes’s neck. As Blanche’s lips met her collar bone Agnes’s hips moved into Blanche’s, a moan escaping her lips. Blanche moved her hands down Agnes’s side pulling her leg up Blanche’s hand on the back of her thigh, the silk layers falling away. Agnes pulled Blanche’s face to her own. Agnes ran her hands over the skin above Blanche’s breasts. Each of her breaths became more labored.   
Agnes was amazed at the softness of her skin. The gentle doughiness of a woman’s flesh. She wanted to see more. She pushed Blanche ever so slightly back so she could undo the tie of her robe. Beneath the blue robe was a plain slip with lace accenting Blanche’s rather generous chest. The sound of Blanche’s voice, breaking through Agnes’ rather raptured attention was saying “Should we go to the bed?”   
“Yes,” Anges nearly yelled, worry entering her mind as soon as the words came out of her mouth.   
Blanche looped Agnes’ arm around her waist and walked backwards to the bed, untying her robe and pushing it off her shoulders till it fell as a flowered puddle at her feet. Blanche leaned back onto the bed pulling Agnes on top of her.   
“I don’t know what to do” Agnes said.   
Rolling over so she was straddling Anges, Blanche leaned down and whispered “You simply touch me where you are curious to know what my body feels like. And my body will tell you what it likes.” She ran her finger down Agnes’ body starting at her ear, between her breasts, dipping into her belly button, and ending between her legs. Reversing her fingers’ journey she said “We have love already now our hands and lips will say it for us.” And she kissed Agnes lightly on the lips.   
“So” Agnes said, “if am curious about your breasts, I touch them” Pleasure spread through Blanche as Agnes laid her hand on her breasts, her left thumb falling against her nipple. “They are so full and soft. I’ve wondered what they would feel like when they have peeked out from your blouse.” Agnes looked up and saw Blanche’s mouth fall slightly open, encouraged to have caused that pleasure in Blanche, she moved her right hand down to Blanche’s breast and began to knead them both with the same soft deep rhythm. A moan escaping from Blanche’s lips when her thumb would run against her nipple that was now hard.  
Seeing Agnes’s ease with her body and comfort in her arms, Blanche’s heart swelled with love and a desire to please the beautiful woman before her. She kissed Agnes with long kisses, drawing each one out. Wanting to give Agnes more of herself she slid her nightgown over her head. Agnes gasped.   
Agnes lowered her lips to Blanche’s stomach laying wet kisses against it, her thumbs stroking against Blanche’s nipples. Her kisses dropping to below Blanche's belly button. Agnes dragged her tongue across the expanse of skin till it rest on Blanche’s hip bone. Blanche shook with the feeling, her cry echoing it. Agnes captured Blanche’s mouth, holding them together sharing the desire they were calling out in each other.   
Their bodies began to move together, rocking against each other. Blanche’s lips dipped capturing Agnes’ nipple in her mouth, the wetness of her kisses soaking her nightgown so it deepened in color. Blanche’s hands caressed the dip at Agnes’ waist pulling her against her and then ever so slightly away. Agnes lifted her hips to move against Blanche, her nightgown spilling forward polling between her legs and stopping at Blanche's wrists. Blanche moved her hands to Agnes long smooth thighs, eventually slipping her hand under ther nightgown pulling it away from Agnes skin. As she did she ever so briefly brushed against Agnes’ pelvis, the curl of her hair touching the edge of her thumb. Both women shuttered. Moving the gown up Blanche stared at the sweet expanse of Agnes’ stomach. She traced the length of her cesarian scar with kisses, bobbing to kiss Agnes she said “I think she was worth it.” She then pulled the nightgown over Agnes’ head and there was no longer any thing between them, Blanche shuttered as she beheld Agnes fully naked below her.   
Blanche pulled Agnes to sit up against her. Kissing Agnes as their breasts moved against each other their arms making sure there was no distance between them. Agnes moaned into Blanche’s ear, and Blanche slipped her hand between them, moving slowly through Agnes’ thick crop of hair. She slid her fingers finding the part of Agnes that was wet and crying out for her. Agnes herself was crying into Blanche’s ear bent over her shoulder. Blanche could hear each sound escape her lover’s mouth as she slid her finger up and down Agnes’s slick center, circling her clit, and then entering her. Anges moved faster against Blache’s hips, pulling her against her with all her strength.   
Agnes could feel the heat escaping Blanche’s core. Curious to feel the rougher coils of her hair against her fingers, she slid her hand behind Blanche’s, gathering a curl between her fingers and stretching it out and releasing it, she repeated this each time a deeper moan escaping Blanche’s lips. Spreading her fingers wide, Agnes reached to hold all of Blanche’s center in her hand. Her middle finger slid between Blanche’s labia, and was captured. Blache cried out.   
Blanche’s open mouth landed on Agnes shoulder, where she began to lay deep open mouthed kisses, moving towards her clavicle she sucked lightly at the rise of the bone, running her tongue in long languid brushes against Anges neck and shoulder. Eventually her lips finding their way to Agnes’ needily waiting to be smothered.   
Blanche’s hand never stilled circled back to Agnes clit, and pressed her thumb against it, releasing the pressure as Agnes thrust her hips, moaning loudly. She moved her finger some they dipped into Agnes core. Agnes grabbing for her but Blanche sliding her finger back to press against Agnes clit. She did this again and again removing her thumb as Anges’ body and voice were raised with pleasure. A third and a fourth and fifth time. And then Blanche pressed her thumb against Agnes’ clit till she held it fully between her fingers massaging out all the pleasure it could give Agnes until Agnes’ body crashed against Blanche and she was washed by wave after wave of her orgasm. Anges fell against Blache slumped as her muscles finally released. 

With Agnes’ full weight pressed against her Blanche fell back against the bed. Agnes falling on top of her, whispering her love into her ear, moans still escaping as her body uncoiled itself. Agnes’ hand was still spread against Blanche’s core, holding on to her. Blanche began to move against it, encouraged by Agnes’ moans in her ear. Agnes flicked her finger upwards and Blanche moaned deeply in response. Agnes looked at Blanche’s face wide with pleasure and need, and knew she was the cause and the solution. Agner began to kiss Blanche. She moved a second finger into the warmth of her lover, still using the weight of her body apply pressure. She began to rock her hand back and forth till Blanche was panting against her neck. Agnes’ seeing the pleasure on Blanche’s face felt wetness against the back of her hand, as a second orgasm building in her. She rocked her hand back and forth between them, her hips rolling against Blanche's her lips kissing any skin they landed against. Blanche cried out as Agnes lips landed beside her nipple she sucked it into her mouth. Blanche arched her back Agnes rising with her as her orgasm shook them both. Anges coming with her. Spent Agnes fell to the bed beside Blanche.

Blanche gathered Agnes’ face into her hands and kissed Agnes, over and over whispering how beautiful she was and how much she loved her. Tears slid down their cheeks. “Agnes, I think I could never have sex again and be sexually fulfilled for the rest of my life after that. You are amazing.” Blanche said awe apparent in her voice.  
“Oh no, Blanche we have to do that again” Agnes said. Then with a shyness, “was i really that good?”   
“Yes.” Blanche said kissing Agnes again and again.   
Blanche pulled Agnes’s whole body onto hers then pulling a blanket over them. She held the woman she loved against her. Agnes nuzzled against Blanche. Both women whispering how much they loved each other and how beautiful and amazing each thought the other was. This was their lullaby, as they fell asleep together.


	9. Worms

It was a cool spring afternoon. Agnes and Blanche had driven to Wales leaving as soon as the sun broke, to be able to wake the children from their afternoon nap and now they were all in the garden behind the house. Agnes’ family at her family home; Hector and Veronica, Pamela and Blanche. Nanny and Miss Buck were given the afternoon off and had headed into town.   
Veronica was walking now, although not always steady. And Hector had grown too, 4 now and a curious and very serious but always sweet. Pamela was very fond of the children, and loved being their aunt.   
“Can I show you something Aunty Bleach” asked Hector, taking Blanche’s hand. She smiled at his eager face. “Lead the way!”  
Hector took Blanche to the edge of a small creek, “Under here there are worms!” Hector declared. “Do you want to see them?”  
The two crouched together on either side of the rock, looking back and forth between the other’s face and the rock. Hector having gained the right amount of excitement to overcome his squeamishness pulled the rock away, to reveal 4 thick earthworms. They stared at them as they moved in the moist soil.  
Blanche using a nearby twig she lifted one worm ever so slightly off the ground. “This is the head, you know because it comes to a point and this…” She laid the worm back down and pointed to the band around the worm “moves the worm’s food into the rest of its body.”   
“Aunty Bleach, how do the worms breath when they are in the dirt, if their heads are covered?”  
“Well worms are different from humans, and they don’t use lungs and mouths to breath. They use their skin. As they move along under the dirt they suck up the pockets of air into their skin. It is how they drink too.”  
“Woah!” said Hector, eyes wide.   
“Worms can grow their bodies back if they get cut off.” Hector’s eyes got even wider. Using the stick again “See the way the worm has those lines. Those are like different pieces of the the worm’s body. And if the worm get cut off, the part closer to the head will still live and only the other part will die, and then it will grow back, sometimes a different color, like on this worm here.” Awe filled Hector’s eyes as he looked from the amazing regrowing worms to Blanche.   
“Can I hold the worm? Or will that hurt the worm?” asked Hector.  
Smiling at his sweetness that was so much like his mother’s Blanche nodded. “Go get your hand a little wet in the water, and then you can pick him up”  
When he came back Blanche using the twig lifted the worm into Hector’s cupped hands. And watched as his nose scrunched up as the worm wiggled around.   
“He feels so funny in my hands” said Hector. Blanche picked up a second one “Let’s give him a friend.”   
Agnes, carrying Veronica came looking for the pair of them since it had been 10 minutes since they had scampered off. Coming around the bend, her heart constricted at the sight of her son and her love, in the dirt together. Hector was holding something in his hands. Blanche sprinkled some water on the worms and they squirmed around in Hector’s hands causing him to giggle, Blanche joining in. The sight of them filled Agnes’ heart with love she kissed Veronica’s forehead.   
Seeing his mother and sister Hector yelled out “We found worms!” He ran over to show his mother. Sticking his very dirty hands into Agnes face. “They can regrow their bodies if they get cut off! Aunty Bleach told me, and she knows everything.”   
Agnes laughed and looked over at Blanche, whose hands were just as dirty.   
“Do you want to hold them too mum? I could share if you wanted to. But Veronica is too little she’d drop them.”   
“No thank you, sweetie” replied Agnes.   
“Why don’t we put them back under the rock now Hector, so they can go eat dinner” said Blanche.   
Hector waited for the worm to squirm back under the dirt and laid the rock back over them. Veronica walked over to see what her big brother was doing.   
Agnes’ smile had not left her face.   
“I bet you didn’t know that I know everything” Blanche said coyly. Agnes leaned in and kissed her. Wiping at some dirt on Blanche’s face.   
“He is a very smart boy.” Agnes responded.  
They walked back to the house, Agnes holding Veronica’s hand as well as Blanche’s their fingers interlaced, and Blanche holding Hector’s hand. They walked slowly, since Veronica’s legs were very short.   
When they reached the door Agnes said “now everyone straight up to the bathroom and wash those dirty hands.” Smacking Hector then Blanche on the bum to hurry them along.


	10. Taller

Agnes was mixing Blanche a drink when she walked into the parlor. “Martini?” she asked.  
“You are expanding your repertoire I see.” Blanche smiled as she accepted the drink her eyes teasing giving a smile of approval after her first sip.  
Blanche took Agnes’ hand pulling her nearer “Thank you, dear”  
Agnes bent her head to kiss Blanche, hands still held.  
“Kissing you is funny” Anges said. “I mean to have to lean down to kiss you.” Blanche's sigh was audible. Agnes kissed Blanche again, a sweet reassurance.  
“Hallam was only a bit taller than me when I was wearing heels, so when we would kiss neither of us had to lean down. When you and I kiss our lips are on top of eachother”  
Blanche was amused by this and a smile played on her face as she sat down on the couch. Agnes following suit.  
Her words continuing to flow. “There are lots of things that are different about kissing you, about kissing a woman: your lips are softer, and your cheeks are smooth, your lipstick smears into mine, your hair brushes against my face. My breath catches when we kiss.”  
“Well I’d like to think that is particular to kissing me rather than kissing women in general.” Blanche said amusedly, she kissed Agnes to prove her point.  
“Oh quite right.” She said placing a hand on Blanche’s cheek. “You see me when we kiss. It connects not just our lips but our hearts.”  
“Yes, my dear, and hearts are slower to disconnect.” Blanche said marveling at the beautiful woman before her and leaning into her, titling her head so that their lips met. Blanche kissed Agnes gently, the kiss moving slowly, so when they pulled apart they were left breathless. Blanche took Agnes face in her hands and kissed her again, more deeply and with more need. Agnes flung her arm around Blanche pulling them closer together.  
Blanche pulled slightly away, quickly reversing her direction she leaned in kissing Agnes three more times in quick succession before separating their lips.  
“Do you want to know what it is like to be kissed by a taller woman then? What I feel when you kiss me?” Mischief playing in Blanche’s eyes. Anges nodded, she just wanted Blanche to kiss her again however she wanted to do it.  
Blanche stood in front of Agnes, tipping Anges’ head back, holding it between her hands her fingers winding their way into Agnes hair. Agnes’s put her hands on Blanche’s hips, amazed as always by the softness of Blanche’s shape. Blanche leaned down kissing Agnes. Her lips directly on top of hers. Anges sighed as Blanche deepened the kiss, her lips parting, Blanche moving her tongue into Agnes mouth. Anges arms reached up pulling at Blanche’s shoulders the space between them becoming too much to bare anymore.  
Blanche pulled her skirt up and strattled Agnes pushing her against the back of the couch. Agnes moaned, her lips falling from Blanche’s. Blanche’s breasts now directly in front of her. The V of her blouse exposing the tops of her perfect breasts. Anges began to kiss her exposed flesh, her hands sliding up Blanche’s stomach raising her breast more fully into Agnes waiting lips. Blanche moaned, her lips finding their place in Agnes’ neck, her hands in Agnes’s breasts. She made small circles around her nipples till they were fully erect their hardness the contrast to the softness that surrounded them, only then did Blanche touch them. Agnes shuddering with desire, as Blanche’s finger touched her nipples. Agnes frantically began to undo the buttons of her blouse to feel Blanche’s hand against her nipples, against her breasts. Blanche obliged willingly pushing aside the silk of her bra, still wanting more Agnes unclasped her bra Blanche cupping each of her breasts in one of her hands. Her lips moving up Agnes’ neck to her lips, which kissed her back hungrily. Agnes now began work on Blanche’s blouse and bra. Blanche reached forward steadying Agnes hands, and said “I think we need to move to the bed.” Standing she took Agnes’s hand in hers, as the got to the door, wrapping it around her waist so she was pressed to her back, as they made their way the short distance down the hall to Blanche’s bedroom.


End file.
